


Tempest

by orphan_account



Series: Ocean verse [8]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Punisher (Comics), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Crime Fighting, F/F, Fear, Flashbacks, Investigations, Journalism, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Nighttime, Ocean verse, Organized Crime, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karen Page is given the chance to break what could be the story of the decade, to hear from a man who has single handedly shaken the New York criminal underworld through unspeakable violence. But she must contend with the risk of finding herself being drawn too close to her subject. The danger of becoming a part of his world and not being able to retreat from it.</p><p>Frank Castle was long accustomed to violence as a way of life, but as his secret persona becomes more prominent, he turns to one person he feels can be trusted to present his story the way he wants it told. To put a voice behind the force that has decimated New York's gangs. Yet he too must avoid letting himself form a connection, an attachment. As in Frank's world, anyone who gets close, gets hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tempest

**Author's Note:**

> Reading Order
> 
> http://tinyurl.com/h69v6fn

There was a grim irony behind it all, first whispers had spread throughout the city, rumours passed back and forth between those in the know. Gang members were being sniped with chilling precision; one shot, one kill.

Then it had been deemed to be the work of Mexicans or Russians, former special forces long hardened by urban warfare in Juarez or Grozny. But as the bodies mounted ever higher, gone were the single slayings, now replaced by multiple killings.

Word began to spread. Panic enveloped the criminal underworld. Alliances and truces were shattered; everyone became so paranoid that one of their foes was the one to tip off the hit. Then the fear turned inwards. Neighbourhoods became raging warzones until all combatants slaughtered one another or were put to the sword by the mystery shooter. In the end the guns always fell silent.

In the civilian world gallons of ink had been spilled, so many talking heads had talked endlessly, the police gave press conferences only to reiterate that they didn’t know who was behind it.

As a spike of activity was detected in Hell’s Kitchen, still a troubled area after all it seemed, the theory contorted. First there was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen now there was the Angel of Death, or so the papers said. Yet for all the talk, all the theorizing the so called Angel was a man, a man who still lived among the ordinary people. 

And he was ready to talk. 

Frank sat at the lonely diner with a cap pulled low, obscuring his face while still retaining his view of his surroundings. Positioning himself at the far end of the counter, the prime vantage point. He could see the fleeting figures passing by the window while having the wall at his back. No one could get the jump on him.

As she drummed her fingers against the countertop, the waitress then sighed and shook her head. “Sorry pal, seems like your gal ain’t making it tonight.” Showing a gentle, sympathetic look towards her only customer.

Franke simply gave a nod in acknowledgement. He needed to retain his focus. Full and intense. The meeting had been arranged with every advantage on his side, yet there were always variables, namely in the form of other people. Most couldn’t manage his way of thinking. They’d get sloppy, not realize someone had been tailing them for several blocks.

Karen stepped quickly along the pavement, trying to appear inconspicuous as she could, it was late, close to midnight. And she was dashing for a meeting with a source that could be the story of the decade.

Approaching the diner, she took a moment to ready herself, a short inhale, she grasped the door handle to step inside only to almost collide with a large, looming figure. She stiffened, had she been lead into a trap.

Frank glanced down, speaking simply, “Ma’am.” His gruff voice did little to calm Karen’s nerves. She reached into her pocket, retrieving her ID. As Frank looked over her card he gave a stiff nod, stepping around her and moving out onto the dimly lit, cold street. “Let’s go.”

Karen cautiously moved to stand before him, clearing her throat as she nodded then queried. “Ah, go where?” As he began to walk, a confident stride, Frank’s response remained short, sharp. “Somewhere else.” Karen moved quickly to keep up, the brusque personality continued to put her on edge. Yet as she began to notice similarities with the letters she received. Bluntness, economy of space, whatever it was, the man was one of few words.

So far everything seemed to be working out, Page was scared, he couldn’t blame her. A rookie journalist being caught up at the precipice of Frank’s world. But at the back of his mind he was questioning how much he could trust her. The fear whether genuine or a front either had cons to it. She could panic.

Turning slowly, he looked her over then slowed down, letting Karen catch up he maintained a moderated pace.

Karen showed a brief smile, appreciative for the slower pace, yet her own thoughts continued to whirl. What would she be brought to, the site of a murder, would be entrap her as a witness. Some twisted form of insurance to ensure that she couldn’t reveal what she’d seen.

Coming to a sharp stop, Karen stood firm as she spoke. “No, I want to know where we’re going.” In turn Frank clenched his jaw, he was already making a deviation from his plan, slowing down made it easier for passers-by to take notice. But causing a scene would only bring more unwanted attention.

Turning to face he as he replied. “My apartment ma’am, it’s secure.” A stiff nod as she then began to relent, a step forward followed by another sharply pointed question. “And how much further?” Frank replied as if by rote “Six blocks. I’m on the 12th floor.” But as Karen trusted that it was simply his way, to be direct, perhaps even his mind-set. Calculating and coldly logical, she decided to fall back into step behind him.

Silence set in once again, yet after a couple of blocks elapsed, Frank spoke once more, his voice still rough yet closer to a casual tone. “You don’t bullshit, that’s why I wanted you.” Karen shuffled as she continued walking, hesitant as she replied. “Oh, thanks.” 

She then leaned forward, she caught a glimpse of Frank’s determined expression, the overhead street lights flickering across his form yet his stride was unbroken. The intensity did cause her to hold back for a moment and then another. She then meekly asked. “Since you know my name, what am I supposed to call you?” 

With no hesitation of his own, a bluntness returned to his tone. “Frank.” Nodding as she replied. “Frank. Ok, and in my article?” Frank turned and crossed the street, almost causing Karen to be thrown off course. “Whatever you want.” 

As she fell back into step, she began to gradually rediscover her confidence. Relegating Frank’s brooding to a lesser concern. “And you’re sure you want this. To put yourself out there.” “It’s not me.” Frank then turned, setting a firm gaze on Karen. “They don’t know who I am.” He had to admit that she was turning it around, though he wasn’t going to soften his persona, he couldn’t. Karen seemed to be growing accustomed to how he was. Yet then when she spoke again. “A lot of people are afraid of you Frank. Some think you’re going to target regular people next.” He felt anger rising, but restricted himself to a simple “No.” Yet his body language became tight, fists forming as he took heavier steps.

Karen could see it’d struck a nerve, deciding it was better to leave Frank cool off she went silent. Yet even that glimpse of the berserker that dwelled within Frank left her chilled to the bone. She then stiffened as Frank’s voice sounded again. “That’s the kind of bullshit you don’t write.” Thought it was a compliment, she thought, the delivery was wracked with tension. She scrambled to form a reply. “No, I do my research.”

Silence once again formed as they walked the final blocks towards Frank’s apartment block. It lingered as they ascended the multiple flights. But as they walked down the corridor, Karen spoke softly. “If my editor shoots this down, then I’ll find somewhere else for it.” Frank simply nodded as he thrust the key into the lock, and pushed the door open.

Stepping inside after Frank, as the lights came on above, illuminating the room, Karen was astonished at how pristine it was. Almost untouched, she then tensed. Frank seemed to sense her unease, turning to face her as he explained. “I work alone, but I won’t put you at risk.” Karen gave a stiff nod, shuffling in place as she then added. Fixing her gaze firmly upon him. “I can get set up whenever you’re ready to begin, Frank.”


End file.
